How Much Is It Worth To You, by seeker.

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"He's where?"

Albus smiled. It was a frightening expression to Snape at the best of times, and this certainly was not one of those. He choked and barely managed to disguise it as clearing his throat. The headmaster wasn't fooled. Blast him.

"You'll love the Brecon Beacons. Lovely scenery, if a bit untamed, a great deal of ambient magic, fresh clean air -"

"Two of the three not being selling points to a man who makes his home in the dungeon, and is content to do so," Snape interjected dryly.

"-it should be easy enough to locate him," Albus flowed on, ignoring him as always. He extended his hand, fingers clenched to conceal something within, toward Snape, who looked at him as if he'd suddenly transfigured his arm into a particularly nasty snake.

Or perhaps not. Snape would have been less suspicious of a snake. Even a poisonous one. "What is that?"

"A locating token," he beamed.

With great trepidation, he reached out a palm. Albus dropped a grimy little rock into it. As the world suddenly rushed away, he heard Albus' voice dimly receding in the distance.

"Oh, and a port key, too, dear boy."

Sneaky, underhanded, manipulative bastard.

Efficient, too, and too knowing by half, given that Snape had been within an inch of refusing to make the potion, regardless of how necessary Albus deemed it. True, it would help; without it, the next time he went undercover among Death Eaters, his internal magical defenses were too weakened by prolonged undercover work to be completely effective, and he might well be found out. With it, he stood a much better chance of maintaining his cover in the darkness.

It was incredibly unfortunate that the potion required the seminal fluid of a dark creature as a catalyst. Ridiculously unfortunate that the dark creature must be one both known and trusted by the person taking the potion. Insanely unfortunate that the only dark creature who fit the bill, Snape's fervent wishes not withstanding, was Remus Lupin.

Who currently resided in the middle of bloody nowhere in the heart of the Fforest Fawr in the depths of Wales. And who was still royally miffed at being outed to Hogwarts at large. By Snape. Who now needed to beg a favor.

As Snape was not a man to beg favors, and Lupin would no doubt be in no frame of mind to grant said favor even if he would also no doubt extract great pleasure from watching Snape attempt to grovel, the situation was ... unfortunate.

He had no time to prepare, or weasel out of it, before he Apparated with a disorienting pop in a clearing. Surrounded by trees. And rocks, very like the one clenched in his hand. And grass, and wild foliage of sorts that would have made the Potion Master's heart trip a beat if he'd had eyes for any of it. As it was, however, the only thing he could see was the one thing he certainly was not ready to face.

Remus Lupin, looking exceedingly irritated at being disturbed in his solitude, bordering on feral when he recognized the intruder. Snape choked again. This time he didn't bother trying to hide it.

"What do you want?" Lupin growled, prompting a not-wholly-inopportune frisson of arousal to snake down Snape's spine.

"Pardon the intrusion," he began formally. Lupin cut him off, rudely, quite unlike himself.

"I don't. Now what the bloody hell do you want? I'm busy."

Snape bit his tongue as he finally, really, looked at Lupin. Who wore nothing but a rough linen towel around his waist, with a bit of soap in one hand, his hair, grown long, brushing against his shoulders.

His bare shoulders.

Leading Snape's eye inexorably to his bare chest. Then down along his bare torso, a fascinating line of curly brown and gray and gold and auburn curls leading to ... damn, the towel was in the way. At the exaggerated sound of sniffing, Snape's eyes snapped up to Lupin's face.

Yes, the werewolf was smelling the air. Scenting Snape. His expression passed from irritation through shock and disbelief to settle on amusement with a hint of something Snape almost recognized as calculation, an odd expression for a Gryffindor. Even a Gryffindor who was a Dark Creature, needed for defensive purposes for a servant of the Dark to do the bidding of the Light; a situation that was in itself enough to cause cognitive dissonance in Snape's already overly-stimulated brain.

"Tell me you didn't come all the way here from Scotland to apologize, because I won't believe you. I'd think it was polyjuice, but it smells like you ... in a twisted, heated-up sort of way."

"I didn't come here to apologize," Snape began to snap, then remembered precisely why he had come, and bit his tongue again, wincing. "But I shall if it will make this any easier."

"This?" Lupin stepped closer, still unobtrusively sniffing. "What's this? Why DID you come here?"

"To get laid," Snape blurted, brain shorting out at the nearness of too much naked Lupin skin. The werewolf wasn't the only one with a keen nose, and Snape was feeling rather intoxicated by Lupin's own scent.

"What?" Lupin yelped, prompting Snape to rewind the last part of the conversation and review it. Closing his eyes, trying not to bite his tongue a third time, he tried again.

"Uhm, perhaps, not precisely that." Fixing his eyes on a handy tree just behind and above the distracting sight of Lupin's furry chest and rounded shoulder, Snape explained quickly. "Need a rare ingredient for a defensive potion to bolster my effectiveness as a spy. Dumbledore's orders." The last bit was pushing it, but Lupin would never agree if it came only from Snape. And Dumbledore was the one who'd sent him, after all.

Blast him.

"How much is it worth to you?"

The low, rumbling voice was so distracting it took a moment for the import of the words to sink into Snape's mind. He blinked. Blinked again. Glared at Lupin.

"Dumbledore -" he began. Lupin interrupted a second time.

"Isn't the one needing it, now is he? And if it's the potion I think it is, and you're coming to me, then it's a pretty intimate ingredient you need. I ask you again, how much is it worth to you?"

As much as Snape longed to say 'not a bloody thing' and Disapparate out of there, he found, staring into those intent amber eyes, he couldn't. Couldn't devalue the offering, should it be offered, and couldn't bring himself to lie to either one of them about his own motives. Yes, he wanted the extra protection, as he fully intended to outlive Voldemort, and he couldn't do that if he were unmasked and tortured to death by the Dark Lord.

A deeper, quieter reason existed, however. Much as he didn't want to admit to it, he wanted Remus Lupin. Had for years. Decades, probably. Would do whatever he must, and probably enjoy it much more than he should, to have a go at the werewolf, and wouldn't turn his back on this opportunity for all the pride in the world.

Considering the amount of pride he had, that was saying something profound.

"It is worth whatever you wish it to be worth," he finally said. Ignoring the command from his mind to keep staring at the tree, his eyes darted back to Lupin's face.

Lupin was licking his lips.

Then Lupin dropped his towel.

Snape's eyes followed it like iron filings faithfully following a magnet. Staring at a cock that would make a rampant stallion blush with envy, Snape opened his mouth again. Since it was by that point disconnected from his brain, he had no idea what would come out of it. So the evident concern in his tone surprised him as much as it did Lupin.

"Are you all right, Remus? This sort of behavior is rather out of character for you. First you're rude, then you're, well, nude. I don't recall you ever being this ... assertive before."

A rough chuckle forced him to stop staring at the half-hard cock and look back up to Lupin's face. The sight was not reassuring. There was a wildness in his eyes that Snape had never seen.

"I've been living off the land here since you so graciously shouted my secret to the entirety of Hogwarts. My best friend, who I now know is innocent, is on the run, and I can't do a damned thing to help him because I'm a pariah, thanks to your big mouth. I haven't talked to another human being in nine months. The last several times I've changed I've woken with blood on my mouth and wondered why I bothered changing back at all. The children I would give my life to protect are frightened to death of me. I have no future, a destroyed past, and am literally living like an animal in the present. Then you show up and want me to roll over and spread my legs so you can save your sorry hide the next time you dive into the nest of vipers you CHOSE to join. And you wonder why I'm a bit ... unbalanced?"

Snape stared aghast, tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. He'd never heard that tone from Lupin before, either, but it suited the wild eyes perfectly. It also aroused Snape fiercely. Working to moisten his mouth enough to talk, he finally answered. Once again, his words surprised them both.

"I don't want you to spread your legs. I don't want you to be on your back. I want you between mine while I'm on mine." As soon as the words were out, his jaw clamped shut and he did something he hadn't done in twenty years.

He blushed.

Painfully.

He could see the moment Lupin worked his way through the tangled words. The heat in his eyes trebled, and glancing down, Snape could see half-hard had made its way to fully erect. Anger and lust were a dangerous combination, particularly in one who was more wolf than man due to Snape's interference. He found himself taking a step back.

An instant later he did, indeed, find himself on his back. With Lupin crouched between his spread thighs. Pinning him to the ground by his robes, and by one clawed hand clamped around his throat.

"Did you even hear the rest of what I said?" he snarled.

Unable to speak, struggling to breathe, Snape nodded. The fingers tightened.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Nothing, Snape thought, as oxygen deprivation from being strangled turned the world white and he fainted.

He had no idea how long he was unconscious, but when he came to, he was naked, splayed prone on his torn robes. His throat hurt, his knees hurt, and his arse hurt, the last because Remus Lupin was balls deep in him and fucking him like a man possessed. Snape hadn't even gotten hard, no time to react, when Lupin shoved deep inside him and howled, come spraying like lava deep inside Snape's gut, hard strong fingers clawing at Snape's hips.

As Lupin hunched, draped over his back, Snape shook his head enough to clear it. "Shite," he grumbled. "Wasted it."

"No," Lupin panted in his ear. "That was for me. What you want will cost you." He pulled out abruptly, paying no heed to Snape's pained gasp, then slapped his arse sharply.

Snape shivered. Damn Lucius, early training, and naturally masochistic tendencies. The erection he hadn't had time to get when Lupin was fucking him roared up with a vengeance. Over his shoulder, Lupin laughed. It was a surprisingly infectious sound.

Working his way from his knees to lean on his hip, not trusting himself to try to stand and not wanting to sit on his recently abused arse, Snape looked over at Lupin. "So, what's it going to cost?"

Lupin's grin was decidedly, well, lupine. Snape sighed at his own constricted vocabulary, not used to having the eloquence fucked out of him, and waited with as much patience as he could muster for Lupin to put him out of his misery and answer the bloody question.

Four seconds later he snapped, "For god's sake, Remus, answer the bloody question!"

Well, patience had never been his strong suit. Not when he was naked and turned on, and not when he had a deadline to make. He needed to get the damned potion done before the next call from the Dark Lord, and the way his Mark was itching it would be soon.

"Me, seduced, by you." After a short pause, during which Snape digested this, he added, "You, debased, by me."

A win-win situation, not that Snape would tell Lupin that. He was having enough of a struggle accepting it for himself!

"What are we waiting for?" spilled out into the silence between them. It took a moment for Snape to realize it came from him, then another moment to process the fact that his vaunted self control had apparently been left behind at Hogwarts.

To his intense surprise, Lupin got up, turned his back to him, and walked away, stooping to pick up his towel on as he left.

"What are you doing?" Snape protested. "I thought we were going to ..." But then, they already had. Or at least Lupin had. Snape stared down at his bereft erection. "Don't you want ..." He cleared his throat. "Where are you going?"

"To take a bath," came the supremely disinterested answer.

"Playing hard to get?" Snape sniped.

A rumbling laugh was his only answer. Left with no other options, Snape followed.

The pool where Lupin bathed was a lovely place, if one enjoyed lush foliage, tall trees, crystal clear water, and a picaresque waterfall. Snape preferred his dungeon. Wincing a little at the pull in his recently-plowed arse, he paused at the edge of the pool and looked down his nose at Lupin, who was diving under the water and frolicking about like a dolphin. He should have looked idiotic.

He looked delicious.

Water sparkled in his hair, slid down his skin, outlined every deceptively slender muscle. Caught in his eyelashes and on his lips, causing a nearly uncontrollable urge for Snape to lick it off. Slowly. Captured by the sheer unadulterated pleasure on the werewolf's face, he was caught off-guard when sherry eyes opened and pinned him in place.

"Strip." A command, not a request. Snape opened his mouth to protest, and Lupin's expression hardened.

Right. Seduction. Debasement. Snape was as inept at the former as he was adept at the latter. He raised his hands to his myriad rows of buttons and began to undress. Slowly.

Bright eyes fixed on him every button along the way.

By the time he'd bared his skinny, pale, darkly-hairy body to the air, feeling sunlight burning in places that had never seen the light of day, he'd never felt so exposed in his life. Lupin gave him no indication of any reaction, positive or negative, and Snape quickly jettisoned any idea of attempting to be sexy as he disrobed. In the first place, he had no idea how to tease, and in the second, he already felt completely out of his depth. As the last piece of black cotton fell into the pile beside his feet, and he bent to place his socks neatly inside his shoes, he could feel his blush extending the length and breadth of his body.

Unfortunately, his desire to run and hide behind the nearest large rock had no impact on his erection, which was as hard as ever.

Lupin waded over to the rocky sand, shook himself so that water flew everywhere, mesmerizing Snape, then gave him a challenging stare. After a moment, he walked over to stand beside Snape and stared him up and down. Not only did Snape feel like a piece of meat at a butcher shop, he felt like the stringiest leftover on the shelf. Lupin sniffed. It was Snape's turn to snarl. Lupin gave him a hard grin.

Then he turned his back on him and walked over to sprawl on a patch of soft grass several yards from the water. Snape stood stock still, staring after him. Surely he didn't mean to leave him there. "Lupin?" he queried. No response. Softer, his voice carrying on the still air, "Remus?"

That earned him a look. A smile. A beckoning gesture. Snape took the invitation and walked closer. When he was a few feet away, Lupin held up his hand. Spread his thighs so that his cock hung down between them, and told Snape, "Crawl."

Snape nearly laughed. Voldemort had done much worse in his time; hell, Lucius had when he was still a teen. He dropped gracefully to his knees and proceeded to crawl until he was crouched between Lupin's feet. The bobbing of his erection sent jolts through him, distracting him from the pebbles biting at his palms and knees. A hand at his head stopped him.

"Suck me. Make me want you."

Snape reached out a hand and had it slapped.

"Just your mouth."

Licking his lips, he dipped his head and caught the tip of Lupin's prick in his mouth. It was tricky, but he managed to slip the head past his teeth, probing at the foreskin with his tongue, then alternating sucking hard with licking all round the head. Soon, he felt the familiar taste of pre-come wetting his tongue. His erection jumped. Lupin chuckled.

"Swallow it," he said huskily. Snape closed his eyes, relaxed his throat, and took the entire length in, swallowing around it as he did. It was difficult going, as Lupin had so recently come, but eventually, as his jaw was beginning to ache and pressure was building up behind his eyes from his inability to breathe deeply, Lupin was fully erect.

Fingers dug into his hair and pulled his head back, forcibly separating him from Lupin's cock. Snape was mildly surprised to find how vehemently he didn't want to let go. They were both breathing heavily now. He sat back on his haunches, fists clenched at his thighs, staring hungrily down at Lupin, sprawled and aroused below him. He licked his lips. The taste was addictive.

"Come."

The command shocked him. He opened his mouth to protest, but Lupin's voice stopped him.

"Come, now, or leave and don't bother returning."

It was a battle not to whimper, but walking away wasn't an option. The potion was the least of his reasons. He wanted Lupin, wanted Lupin to come inside him when he was awake and aware, wanted to see the look on Lupin's face when he came. His right fist uncurled and stroked the length of his own prick, the blush that had died as he sucked returning with a vengeance.

Pain was simple. Easy to share. Pleasure was private. Not for other's eyes, not for the sunlight and the air and the trees and the grass.

Only for Remus.

His left hand reached down and began to stroke his balls as his right increased its pace. He kept his eyes on the head of his prick, appearing and disappearing as his foreskin moved back and forth, staying further out with each stroke. When a fingertip touched his chin he was startled out the fugue state he'd been sinking into.

"Look at me," Lupin said softly.

It was one of the hardest things Snape had ever done, and he wasn't sure he could do it, but he forced himself to look into those knowing brown eyes. Watching him, weighing him, stripping him more naked than skin alone could ever be. The finger slipped up his chin, over his lower lip, pressing for a moment in the center before tapping at his teeth, demanding entrance.

His mouth fell open, harsh breath panting over the finger as it slipped past his lips to rub against the center of his tongue in precise time with the stroke of his hand over his cock. It was quickly too much, for a man so used to hiding, to be held like this, under command, in the open, while he pleasured himself, unable to stop even the helpless sounds forcing their way from his opened mouth. It was as if that single fingertip against his tongue was a full-body bind, anchoring him along with the weight of those eyes devouring his body. His hips thrust back and forth helplessly and his fingers tightened as he came.

"Don't waste it!"

Obedient even in extremis to that voice, Snape brought his left hand away from his ballsac and cupped it over the head, catching most of the sperm as it spat into his palm. As the spasms passed he began to sag, and the finger was abruptly withdrawn from his mouth. He realized in that moment as well that he'd closed his eyes, and he suddenly felt completely alone. Utterly exposed. He wished desperately that he could sink into the ground and disappear.

Then the hand was back, as Lupin lifted his chin and said gently, "Open yourself. Use your come."

Too much. Snape whimpered and tried to draw away. The fingers clamped into his jaw bone like a vise.

"Do it now." The sharp edge of steel in the werewolf's voice was enough to draw blood.

Snape shakily spread his knees and reached behind his sac toward his arse hole. Before his fingers, sticky with come, could reach the hole, Lupin stood. Snape's eyes snapped open as he felt the movement disturb the air around him.

"Why are you waiting?" Lupin demanded.

Biting his lip, Snape continued with his preparations. His fingers skidded against his hole, then slowly circled it. Lupin was behind him now, but even without seeing him Snape could feel the heated stare as Lupin watched him.

A bare foot kicked at his ankle. He started. A second kick, and he moved, spreading his legs further, until he could feel the strain in his hips.

"Use your other hand to spread your cheeks. I want to see what I'm getting," Lupin growled.

Snape glanced down at his right hand, digging into the grass, keeping him upright. "But," he began.

A sharp pain in his left arse cheek from Lupin's slap cut his words off with a gasp. Hastening to obey, unsettled by the rasping growl he could hear on every exhalation Lupin gave, Snape balanced himself on his shoulder, the side of his face pressed to the fragrant grass, and brought his right hand back to pull at his arse, widening the crease. It did make it easier to slip the end of his finger into his hole.

It also was incredibly embarrassing, as he felt more ridiculous than he ever had, bare arse up in the air, hole gaping wide as he fed it his own come.

Considering the fact that he was getting hard again, it was also indisputably arousing, and that was the most humiliating part of the entire thing. He shouldn't be getting off on this. He should simply be enduring it.

There was nothing simple about any of this.

"More," Lupin told him, his voice startlingly loud. "Fuck yourself with your fingers. Put them up as far as you can reach."

Snape could feel his fingers digging into the soft flesh of his arse cheek and knew he was leaving bruises, but he couldn't seem to do otherwise. Angling his arm the best he could, trying to ignore the feel of his forearm brushing against his balls, he managed to work three fingers up into himself. The more he stretched, the more he fed the now-aching hole, the more he wanted, the deeper the itch began inside him.

Rocking back as far as he could on his fingers now, whining with need as he pushed his hand in and his hips back as hard as he could, spreading his cheeks until the flesh burned, he began fucking the air without being fully conscious of it. Lupin dropped to his knees behind him, breath hot against the sweating crease and over the grasping hole, as he whispered encouragement to Snape.

"That's it. Faster. Harder. Fuck yourself, like that, take it. All of it, hard as you can. Look at that greedy hole, such a slut, eating your fingers like that. You want to get fucked, Severus? Is that what your hungry little hole is doing? Doesn't want to let go, wants your whole hand, wants more, doesn't it, Severus? Do you want more? Do you want me to feed your greedy little hole, Severus? Want me to fuck it, fill it up, make it overflow? Is that what you want, Severus?" The voice grew gradually stronger until by the end it was demanding a response. "Tell me what you want!"

"Fuck me!" The strangled cry broke from Snape's throat as his hand tried valiantly to cram itself all the way up his arse, frustrated by the inability to do so. "Please!" God, yes, anything Remus wanted, just please, fuck him, now.

He hadn't realized he'd said the last bit aloud until Lupin chuckled in his ear and said, "Since you beg so nicely."

A strong hand wrapped around his wrist, trapping his fingers in his arse, then a blunt, familiar weight probed above them. Snape screamed, a choked-off, involuntary cry as his hole was stretched far beyond anything it had felt before. Caught between conflicting desires to escape the pain battering his arse hole and shove himself back onto that much-needed cock, to fuck himself into oblivion, Snape shuddered in Lupin's hold.

Before the conflict in his instincts could be resolved, Lupin was fully seated, plunging in hard and barely pulling back before lunging in again. It was the strangest fucking Snape had ever felt, the head of Lupin's cock stropping his fingertips then impacting his prostate, the shaft sawing against his fingers, the sweating heft of balls slapping against the palm of his hand, the insane stretch threatening to rend him asunder; altogether a sensory overload he was ill-equipped to deal with after so literally baring himself to Lupin already. Screams bubbled over his lips and he came, arse hole trying in vain to clamp down, held wide open as Lupin pounded him all the way through it.

He blacked out again, and when he came to his right hand hung limp next to his head, while his left was still trapped half-in his hole as Lupin fucked him hard. Beyond response, dazed and overwhelmed, he was barely aware when Lupin arched against him. Howled, once, a bitten-off sound that raised the hair on the back of Snape's neck. Then Lupin leaned over and bit him, sharply, on the shoulder, and barked, "Don't waste it this time!" before pushing the head of his prick against Snape's hand and pulsing over it into Snape's clutching hole.

Acting on instinct, since his neurons felt as though they were fused together, Snape caught the spunk as it discharged, feeling it coat his hand, dripping down his wrist as well as his inner thighs. Still concentrating on catching as much as he could, he barely felt the kiss Lupin brushed against his back between his shoulder blades, and barely heard him speak.

"Well worth it."

Then Lupin's weight between his thighs and over his back was gone. Something small and gritty landed in the small of his back, and the world swirled around him as he Disapparated. He didn't even have time for a useless prayer that it wasn't really happening, when it had, and he landed, still on his knees, hand still half-way up his arse, spunk coating his thighs and arm, sweat and dirt and grass stains all over his naked body ... in Albus Dumbledore's study. On the floor.

At Minerva McGonagall's feet.

To her credit, she didn't drop her tea all over him.

She did, however, make a sound much like a cat when one stepped on its tail, and levitated three feet straight up.

Snape dropped his forehead on the floor with a thump, gritted his teeth, and gingerly removed his hand from up his fundament, making bloody damned sure not to waste a drop of werewolf seminal fluid as he did.

It had certainly cost him enough.

Then Albus dropped a robe over Snape's body, now in a fetal ball, and the rush of several pairs of feet leaving the study assaulted Snape's ears, affirming his worst fear. Albus had been holding a staff meeting.

Perhaps Snape should have paid more attention when Lupin was verbally unleashing his temper. Turnabout was fair play, it appeared. He'd humiliated Lupin in front of the entire faculty.

Now Lupin had returned the favor.

Clutching his handful of precious fluid, Snape pried one eye open and glared up into Dumbledore's concerned ... twinkling ... eyes.

"I see you were successful. Bravo, dear boy!"

Snarling, glaring, trying to juggle borrowed robe and dripping handful of spunk and not drop either, limping and biting back yips as his arse staged a revolt against recent activities, Snape gathered the tattered remains of what little dignity he had left and slunk away to his dungeons. He had a potion to brew, after all.

Sitting in a steaming tub hours later, staring at the decanted lavender potion he would drink before bed, his mind wandered back to Lupin's question. Even with the levels of sheer humiliation the day had brought, not to mention the hell yet to come of facing his colleagues after his floor show, he couldn't help but think it had all been worth it.

Not that he'd ever admit it to another living soul.

Ever.

END